Three Tales of Yore
"of yore" in the sense that all these tales are of the past, even if only barely. In any case, on with the show!
Let's start off with
Back Pain in the Body Politic
As mentioned earlier, this past Saturday was a bit of a political experience for me, trying to help my old high school chum Walter become a delegate for Obama from Oregon's 5th Congressional District. Now, there is a rule that the Oregon delegation has to be "representative of the population of Oregon." What this means is that we need to over-represent minorities. Fortunately, they cannot actually enforce this (beyond oft-repeated suggestions that you vote for someone who listed themselves as some sort of racial or LGBT minority *wink wink*) outside of listing delegate positions by gender to ensure half the delegates are female and half are male. Now, Obama won the primary in this district something like 55% to 46%, which means both Clinton and Obama get 3 delegates. The gender ratios worked out that one Obama delegate would be male, two would be female with one male alternate. That meant that Walter would be competing with about 35 other men for one spot (not sure if the delegate would get to go to Denver).
Long story short, he won! The meeting was a pain in the ass - they booked a middle school gym (with back-supportless bleachers and no food) from noon to 4. I left at 5:30 and it wasn't yet over. I can forgive them a bit because of the unusual numbers, but it was still a poorly-planned meeting. In the first round, Walter got second place (42,37,32,29 were the top 4 vote getters) and the candidates bracketing him were both union representatives with strong union support. Walter had his church friends and me, totaling roughly 25 people. He was also about 30 years younger than any other candidate, male or female. He gave a kick-ass speech though, especially compared to the other three who basically all said, "I've worked in politics a long time, it's my turn!" He won the final vote in a landslide, 105 to 80-something. I was quite proud.
Wasn't that entertaining? A bit long-winded though. Let's see if we can shorten it up with our next one, entitled
I'm a Canadian Immigrant, eh?
Basically what it says up there. I got my visa today! Just a little sticker in my US passport, a big ol' form I need to fill out at the border, and a 1 page letter explaining That I have to cross the border before the expiration date listed on the visa. This date? 6/9/08
You can see why this led to a bit of a heart attack. It took me a while (to start breathing again) to realize that those wacky Canuks write the date differently, specifically, DD/MM/YY. Imagine, going in order of ascending length of time? So before September (more specifically, July 3rd) I will be in my new Canadian homeland! Now I just need to get me a tuque and learn to say zed.
Hrm, well, I managed to make it a bit shorter. I need to learn to get to the punch quicker. Sadly, this last tale is not conducive to that, as it inherently involves fuzzy memories from the past. Very fuzzy. It's time to play
Was it a Dream?
Lately, I've recalled a few incidents that occurred (or at least I think they did) when I was a teenager of something that didn't concern me then, but seems like it may be cause for concern now. I honestly can't tell if these are old memories, or old memories of dreams. They seem so real, there's no fuzziness at the edges and they involve no terribly weird elements, other than the central one, I suppose. They occurred in real places and involved real people acting consistent with what I know of them.
Specifically, the memories are this: I am paralyzed (partially and temporarily) from the waist down. I can remember (and remember remembering that this had happened before) standing in my grandmother's kitchen at one of our frequent family gatherings. Most folks were in the adjoining TV room watching some sporting event or other. I had to go to the restroom - quite badly - but all of a sudden found my legs would not respond. It's kind of like the paralysis some of you may have felt while sleeping, in that deep dream state that keeps you from thrashing about too much. There were no injuries, my muscles just wouldn't respond. I was propping myself up on the counter, and I wasn't in danger of collapsing while standing there, I just couldn't really move. It took a supreme act of will to get even the tiniest bit of forward motion, even that more from swinging my hips than any movement of my legs themselves. My mom walked by concerned, and I just stopped moving pretending nothing was wrong. She was, naturally, suspicious, but when I wouldn't give up any real info, she had to leave it be.
I got better, of course, and in a matter of minutes, not hours, but still this is the sort of thing where, if it's true, leaves me worried about nerve damage. Not too worried though, because if it ever happened, it hasn't happened in years. Anyone else ever experience anything like this?
Let's start off with
Back Pain in the Body Politic
As mentioned earlier, this past Saturday was a bit of a political experience for me, trying to help my old high school chum Walter become a delegate for Obama from Oregon's 5th Congressional District. Now, there is a rule that the Oregon delegation has to be "representative of the population of Oregon." What this means is that we need to over-represent minorities. Fortunately, they cannot actually enforce this (beyond oft-repeated suggestions that you vote for someone who listed themselves as some sort of racial or LGBT minority *wink wink*) outside of listing delegate positions by gender to ensure half the delegates are female and half are male. Now, Obama won the primary in this district something like 55% to 46%, which means both Clinton and Obama get 3 delegates. The gender ratios worked out that one Obama delegate would be male, two would be female with one male alternate. That meant that Walter would be competing with about 35 other men for one spot (not sure if the delegate would get to go to Denver).
Long story short, he won! The meeting was a pain in the ass - they booked a middle school gym (with back-supportless bleachers and no food) from noon to 4. I left at 5:30 and it wasn't yet over. I can forgive them a bit because of the unusual numbers, but it was still a poorly-planned meeting. In the first round, Walter got second place (42,37,32,29 were the top 4 vote getters) and the candidates bracketing him were both union representatives with strong union support. Walter had his church friends and me, totaling roughly 25 people. He was also about 30 years younger than any other candidate, male or female. He gave a kick-ass speech though, especially compared to the other three who basically all said, "I've worked in politics a long time, it's my turn!" He won the final vote in a landslide, 105 to 80-something. I was quite proud.
Wasn't that entertaining? A bit long-winded though. Let's see if we can shorten it up with our next one, entitled
I'm a Canadian Immigrant, eh?
Basically what it says up there. I got my visa today! Just a little sticker in my US passport, a big ol' form I need to fill out at the border, and a 1 page letter explaining That I have to cross the border before the expiration date listed on the visa. This date? 6/9/08
You can see why this led to a bit of a heart attack. It took me a while (to start breathing again) to realize that those wacky Canuks write the date differently, specifically, DD/MM/YY. Imagine, going in order of ascending length of time? So before September (more specifically, July 3rd) I will be in my new Canadian homeland! Now I just need to get me a tuque and learn to say zed.
Hrm, well, I managed to make it a bit shorter. I need to learn to get to the punch quicker. Sadly, this last tale is not conducive to that, as it inherently involves fuzzy memories from the past. Very fuzzy. It's time to play
Was it a Dream?
Lately, I've recalled a few incidents that occurred (or at least I think they did) when I was a teenager of something that didn't concern me then, but seems like it may be cause for concern now. I honestly can't tell if these are old memories, or old memories of dreams. They seem so real, there's no fuzziness at the edges and they involve no terribly weird elements, other than the central one, I suppose. They occurred in real places and involved real people acting consistent with what I know of them.
Specifically, the memories are this: I am paralyzed (partially and temporarily) from the waist down. I can remember (and remember remembering that this had happened before) standing in my grandmother's kitchen at one of our frequent family gatherings. Most folks were in the adjoining TV room watching some sporting event or other. I had to go to the restroom - quite badly - but all of a sudden found my legs would not respond. It's kind of like the paralysis some of you may have felt while sleeping, in that deep dream state that keeps you from thrashing about too much. There were no injuries, my muscles just wouldn't respond. I was propping myself up on the counter, and I wasn't in danger of collapsing while standing there, I just couldn't really move. It took a supreme act of will to get even the tiniest bit of forward motion, even that more from swinging my hips than any movement of my legs themselves. My mom walked by concerned, and I just stopped moving pretending nothing was wrong. She was, naturally, suspicious, but when I wouldn't give up any real info, she had to leave it be.
I got better, of course, and in a matter of minutes, not hours, but still this is the sort of thing where, if it's true, leaves me worried about nerve damage. Not too worried though, because if it ever happened, it hasn't happened in years. Anyone else ever experience anything like this?